


To Do What Someone Must

by jessclare



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, i want more sadness in s11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-24 15:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessclare/pseuds/jessclare
Summary: Yasmin is tired of the Doctor’s evasiveness and decides to do some research on the Time Lord’s mysterious past. It’s not a great idea.





	1. Chapter 1

“New New New New New New New New New York,” the Doctor beams, throwing the TARDIS doors wide open. “Love it, there’s nothing quite like this anywhere else in the universe. This was a great idea.”

Ryan and Graham follow the Doctor out into a narrow alleyway and crane their necks to gaze up at the tall buildings surrounding them. Yaz hesitates in the doorway, something heavy weighing on her chest, but forces a smile onto her face when she notices the Doctor eyeing her with a barely perceptible frown.

“Coming, Yaz?”

The lock clicks softly when she pulls the door closed behind her and takes a deep breath. “Yeah. What’s that smell?”

“That? Authentic New York style pizza, famous across the galaxy. You have to try it. Of course, you’ll have to catch it first.”

Ryan has some follow-up questions and Yaz follows her friends only half listening  to the Doctor’s enthusiastic description of a food item that sounds nothing like pizza. The alleyway leads them to a busy street chaotic with moving vehicles and creatures of all shapes and sizes yelling at one another to get out of the way. Cool-toned sunlight filters onto the pavement through smog and gaps in the tall buildings lining the street on both sides. Graham notices a street vendor and a sign advertising bagels and wants to know about their plans for breakfast. 

“Actually,” Yaz pitches in, feeling self-conscious as the rest of the group turn to look at her. “I’m not really hungry and there’s this cool library nearby that I read about somewhere. I could take a quick look and join you guys later?” 

Graham shrugs, already turning back in the direction of what may or may not be actual bagels. Ryan says, “If you’re sure you’re gonna be okay on your own”, and Yaz rolls her eyes before nudging him to go after Graham before he gets lost in the crowd. The Doctor lingers behind, fixing Yaz with a surprisingly serious look.

“Are you okay, Yaz? You’ve been very quiet.”

“Me? Yeah, yeah. Maybe just a bit jetlagged, or something. But thanks for bringing us here, really. This place looks amazing.” She places a hand on the Doctor’s arm and smiles at the blonde. Over the last few weeks, she’s learned that this is a very efficient way to distract the Doctor. Over the last few weeks, she’s often wondered what that might mean.

“I’m fine. I’ll call you,” Yaz says softly, turning away before the Doctor can say anything else. The crowd swallows her in an instant and she lets the flow of people carry her in the opposite direction, away from her friends. She’s memorised the location of the library carefully and can already see a couple of oddly shaped buildings she recognises from the intergalactic tourist guidebook she has on her bedside table in the TARDIS. Being out and about on her own in this strange alien city is thrilling, but Yaz feels nervous and twitchy in a way that has nothing to do with the excitement of exploring a new planet. She glances over her shoulder and crosses the street.

Looking back on their friendship, Yaz is surprised by how quick she was to trust the Doctor. Maybe it was the whole having-your-entire-world-turned-upside-down thing of discovering that aliens exist and the universe is _ so _ much bigger than she ever imagined, but after a few feeble attempts at challenging the Doctor’s authority she instinctively trusted her, quite literally with her life. Even though their first adventures together were an accident that Yaz didn’t exactly sign up for, she’s sure she would have followed the stranger in a charity shop coat in a heartbeat. And it’s not that she regrets it, but she’s come to realise that she knows next to nothing about the Time Lord - doesn’t really even know what ‘Time Lord’ means, even though it sounds very cool. And Yaz can be quite private, understands private, but the more time they spend together, the more she learns about Ryan and Graham and the more she shares with them about herself, the more it bothers her that the Doctor just smiles and makes some stupid joke and brushes it off whenever she asks about her past. It’s especially infuriating because the Doctor seems happy enough to honor Yaz’s other requests, like violating the very basic rules of time travel to go visit Yaz’s nan, but she flat-out refuses to give up any personal information apart from weird anecdotes about Elvis Yaz is pretty sure aren’t even true. And to be honest, all this leaves Yaz feeling left out and belittled, like she’s some kind of pet the Doctor has picked up on her travels, someone whose trust in the Doctor is appreciated but never reciprocated. It leaves her wondering how quickly the Doctor gets tired of her pets, how much longer they have until it’s back to Sheffield or some similar enough place and the Doctor is off, back in her box, without her. And Yaz is very much not ready to go home yet, not with so much of the universe still left to see and, if she’s really very honest with herself, not when there’s all this tension between her and the mysterious Doctor, lingering looks and touches and them both blurting out things like “you’re the best person I’ve ever met” and “can’t have a universe without Yaz” but not having the courage to do anything about it. Maybe if she knew more about the Doctor it would make things easier, bring them together. So, she’s decided to take matters into her own hands.

As cagey as the Doctor is in front of her supposed “fam”, Yaz has noticed several times that the people they encounter on their travels often seem to know her. Not personally, but they know  _ about _ her like Yaz knows about Rosa Parks or Kim Kardashian or someone. And the Doctor doesn’t do a very good job of hiding her pleasure at being recognised - which is in fact how Yaz’s plan began to take shape. Here is a mysterious and fascinating and, yes, fine,  _ gorgeous _ woman who refuses to tell Yaz anything about herself. And here is the New New New New New New New New New York Public Library, famous for its stunning post-neo-galactic architecture and massive book collection which, supposedly, hopefully, also features that  _ whole volume _ written about the Doctor in some book about famous space people. It’s information that’s publically available, and it’s not like half the universe doesn’t already know the Doctor and whatever she’s famous for, so technically this doesn’t even count as violating your friend’s privacy by snooping on them under the pretense of being interested in architecture, right? Yaz takes in the shiny glass façade and glances around one more time to make sure her friends are nowhere to be seen, and enters the library.

Considering how far into the future they’ve travelled, the basic concept of a library doesn’t seem to have changed much. The sounds from the street are hushed immediately as the massive wooden door slides closed behind Yaz, and there’s a familiar, comforting smell of dust lingering in the still air. There’s even an information desk and someone human-looking enough sitting behind it in the middle of the dusky lobby. Yaz leans against the desk with an apologetic smile on her face.

“So sorry to bother you. I, uh, I’m on holiday with my family and I really need to get a uni assignment done today. I’m not from around here but could I maybe use the library? I think my uni has some kind of arrangement with you, here  – “ She fishes a slip of psychic paper out of her jeans pocket, feeling a stab of guilt when she remembers the Doctor frantically looking for the thing that morning, swearing she’d left it on the TARDIS console. “Does that help?”

The receptionist nods eagerly. “Oh, most certainly. You’re welcome to use any of our facilities. Let me know if I can assist you with anything.”

Yaz lets out a small sigh of relief. “Actually… Like I said, not from around here. So, I need to write a paper on someone called the Doctor? Is there a section I should start from?”

The receptionist taps at a screen in front of them and hands Yaz a small plastic-looking card. “I’ve booked you a private study, seeing as your alma mater is one of our biggest intergalactic donors. You’ll have access to all of our collections via a telepathic link, all searchable and fully translated into 800 most common languages. Just go down the corridor and then to your left.”

Stashing the card and the psychic paper in her pocket, Yaz thanks the receptionist and rushes down the dimly lit glass corridor. She desperately hopes that the bagels Graham had his heart set on turned out to not be bagels or anything else edible, buying her more time before the gang starts wondering about her. The key card opens the door into a small but cosy room with a desk and a couple of adjustable chairs for various different species. Yaz selects the one that looks the most accommodating of a human body and tentatively touches the desk with her fingertips. The most ridiculously sci-fi-looking hologram pops up in front of her and a smooth, pleasant voice starts listing off the various features available.

“Um… Search for ‘The Doctor’, please?” Yaz frowns at the blocks of text rotating above the desk and they immediately disappear, to be replaced by more text.

“ _ Doctor. Disambiguation. Noun. Medical professional. _ ”

“No, uhh. The Doctor? Alien?” 

“ _ Alien. Adjective  _ _ – _ ”

Yaz leans back in frustration, tapping her fingers against the desktop. Then she remembers the receptionist mentioning something about telepathy, and isn’t that how the TARDIS works, too? She closes her eyes and thinks about the Doctor in the console room, trying to picture her face and the way she moves and the stupid, brilliant things she says. Regeneration? Used to be a white-haired Scotsman, whatever that means?

“ _ The Doctor. Time Lord _ .  _ Last of. _ ”

“Yes. What?” Yaz opens her eyes to see a list of articles humming steadily in mid-air. Next to them, there’s an image with the familiar name pasted underneath. But the face is not familiar, at all. It’s some man, with short hair and a look on his face that’s equal parts sad and angry and lost. It doesn’t look like the Doctor at all. Yaz is vaguely aware that the Doctor used to identify as male in some capacity, but the face hovering in front of her, all shiny blue light and shivering pixels, is clearly not the same person in any way. “‘Last of’? Dis, uh, disambiguate that please?”

“ _ The following is a reconstruction based on contemporary accounts from the Time War and later scholarly research. It contains shocking material and may not be suitable to all viewers. To proceed, indicate ‘yes’ _ .”

Yaz’s voice comes out small and shaky. What war? What shocking material? Are there perhaps multiple people called the Doctor; should she keep searching for ‘happy, bubbly, blonde lady who goes on adventures with her friends and is maybe Yaz’s latest hopeless crush also’? Surely, this cannot be right? Surely, Yaz would know about a war? Surely, the Doctor would have told her?

“Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments on the first chapter, I really hope you enjoy this one!

Yaz bends over the side of the desk and throws up. “Stop,” she manages to whisper, not sure whether her eyes are watering because she just vomited on the pristine floor of the New New New New New New New New New York Public Library or because she’s been crying without noticing it.

“ _ Alternative theories. It has been speculated that the double genocide – _ ”

“STOP!” Yaz lets out a strangled sob and wipes her face in her sleeve. The hologram on the desk collapses, plunging the study into near-darkness. A low hum surrounds Yaz, punctuated by shaky breaths and the beat of her pulse in her ears. She has no idea how long she has spent in that room, unable to look away from the horrors being meticulously painted in the air in front of her by the library computer. No one has called her yet, so there’s that at least. But she needs to get out, fast. She stands up and immediately slumps against the wall, vision swimming and legs shaking. She knew, of course, that the Doctor was probably quite a bit older than she looks and that she’d done a lot, seen a lot, before crashing down in Sheffield, smelling of smoke and danger and new beginnings. But Yaz  _ really _ didn’t know the extent of it. Had no idea. And right now she’d trade all of their adventures, all the alien planets and late-night hangouts in the TARDIS for a chance to go back to not knowing. Because there are things much worse than feeling like your crush isn’t sharing enough personal details with you. One of those things? Finding out that your crush is a couple thousand years older than you thought and guilty of two genocides.

Shivering, Yaz stumbles to the door and back towards the entrance hall. She passes the kind, helpful receptionist as fast as she can and doesn’t turn back when she hears them call after her. The noise of traffic feels deafening after the hushed library and Yaz pauses on the steps outside the building, dazed and nauseous. Her first thought is that she desperately wants to go home right now, and a second thought hasn’t had time to form yet when she hears someone call her name.

“Oi! Yaz!” Ryan bounces towards her, Graham and the Doctor following behind. Ryan’s smile wavers when he stops and looks at Yaz. “You alright? You look terrible.”

Yaz looks away and runs a shaky hand across her face. “Yeah. I mean, I think I’ve caught a cold or something. I’ll go back to the TARDIS to lay down for a bit.”

Ryan’s warm, comforting hands come up on her shoulders. “Aw. We’ll take you. I’m sure there’s doctors here too if you need a check-up? Real medical doctors I mean.” 

“Nah, I’m fine. Just want to lie down, honest.” Yaz can’t bring herself to look at Ryan, worried that eye contact would betray the horrors still running through her head. Splashing against her rib cage, threatening to suffocate her. Ryan turns to Graham and the Doctor.

“Yaz’s not feeling good. We should get back.”

“No, no. You guys go ahead, we’ve come all this way,” Yaz protests, gaze fixed on the ground. “I’ll just go lie down for a bit. I’m fine.”

“I’ll take her back to the TARDIS,” the Doctor’s hovers by Yaz’s elbow and the proximity makes Yaz feels sick but further protestations stick in her throat so she just nods, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. Are they in danger? Should she warn Ryan and Graham that their brilliant, benevolent new friend is actually a murderer and a liar? Will she put their lives at risk if she reveals what she knows?

“Alright, we’ll head off to that zoo thing. Meet up with you later, Doc?” And before Yaz can make up her mind, Graham and Ryan have disappeared from view. 

The two women head back to where they parked the TARDIS in silence. Yaz does her best to avoid looking at the Doctor but her head reflexively whips around when she hears the whirr of the sonic screwdriver undercut the noises of traffic and people yelling at each other.

“What are you doing?”

The Doctor lowers the sonic looking sheepish. “I scanned you, just in case it was something serious. It’s not. You’re… fine.” She gives Yaz a long, questioning look. “What’s wrong?”

Yaz shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling a bit unwell, have been since the morning.”

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me.” They walk on. “But you can if you want to.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay.”

The TARDIS has really started to feel like a home to Yaz, a safe haven no matter how scary and chaotic things get around them, so she’s not surprised by the wave of relief that rushes through her when they turn a corner and see the blue box standing in the alleyway. It no longer feels like home, though. But it’s the only way Yaz has of  _ getting _ home so it’s a welcome sight nevertheless, like a cab pulling over next to you on a rainy night out. The Doctor fishes out the key from her pocket and leads the way in. She’s about to head down the corridor that leads to Yaz’s bedroom when Yaz stops by the console.

“Wait, Doctor.” She braces herself and meets the Doctor’s gaze for the first time that day. The Doctor’s shoulders slump slightly and she smiles, like she’s relieved. Like she thinks they’re going to have a long talk about feelings and why Yaz has been acting so weird, now.

Well, she’s not wrong, Yaz thinks.

“Listen. I’d like to go home, if that’s possible. And Graham and Ryan, too. For… For a bit.” 

“Oh. Yeah, sure! Homesick, eh? We’ve been gone for a while, I guess.”

Here it is, then. They could wait until Ryan and Graham get back, fly to Sheffield, be back in time for tea on the day they left. Yaz could tell the boys about the war once the Doctor is gone, and when she comes back to pick them up again they could just politely decline. You shouldn’t mess with the person who is your only ride back to planet Earth. Just like you shouldn’t go digging up information about people when they’ve deliberately not told you something. So in a way, lines have already been crossed.

So.

“I know about the Time War.” A dead silence falls in the console room. The Doctor stops in her tracks and just like that, Yaz can connect the dots between the man she saw in the library database and the woman standing in front of her now. Equal parts sad and angry and lost. The Doctor. Time Lord. Last of. No ambiguity there at all.

“How… How long? How long have you known?” The Doctor swallows, and actually looks almost as nervous as Yaz feels.

“Since about an hour ago.”

“The library? Oh, Yaz,” the Doctor takes a step forward, her voice soft now, pleading. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I didn’t think they’d show the collection to tourists in that much detail, I didn’t think you’d –” she pauses, and the room is silent for a long moment. Not because it takes the Doctor very long to arrive at the correct conclusion, but because she seems unwilling to accept it. “You didn’t find out by accident.”

It’s not an accusation, and it’s definitely not a question. It’s just a fact, an ugly, terrible fact, and Yaz can see all the betrayal she’s feeling reflected on the Doctor’s face. She almost wants to apologise, except – “No. I looked you up. I looked you up in the database ‘cause it seemed weird to me that you’re some kind of celebrity pretty much everywhere we go and yet I know nothing about you! You’re always making stupid jokes about all the things you’ve done and you’re never serious when I ask you about your past. So I wanted to know. I have the right to know!” She glowers at the Doctor. “I’ve trusted you with everything and you’ve given me nothing.”

“You want to talk about trust, Yaz? You want to talk about how you went behind my back to look at things I didn’t want you to have to see yet? How’s that for trust?”

“It’s not like I stole any information, it’s right there for everyone to see! Why’s that something everyone else in the universe is entitled to but not me? Did you think we might not want to travel with you if we knew you were a  _ murderer _ ?” Yaz realises she’s been shouting only when she stops and her words still echo around the console room. The Doctor slumps against the console, turning away. “Because you’d’ve been right. I want you to take me and Ryan and Graham home. Right now. You’ll have to find someone else to trick into being on your team.”

Yaz stomps back to the TARDIS door and tries to open it. It doesn’t move. She turns around, now really furious, her fight-or-flight reflexes firmly set on fighting. “Open the goddamn door, Doctor. I’m going to find the boys and then you’re taking us all home.”

“No.” The Doctor is leaning against the console, her hair hiding most of her face as she contemplates her shoes. “Let me explain, please.”

Yaz kicks the door and the TARDIS lets out a disapproving grumble but the flimsy-looking wood doesn’t budge. Yaz smashes her foot against it again, this time aiming closer to the lock, but to no avail. Which makes sense – the TARDIS is robust enough to survive being thrown through the Time Vortex on the regular and it emerged from the whole sonic mine disaster without so much as a scratch on the paint.

“Fine,” Yaz says, turning to look at the Doctor. “I’ve been trained for hostage situations. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Clearly you didn’t learn very much at the library then,” the Doctor says quietly, looking up. 

Yaz walks up the steps leading to the console and stops in front of the woman she adored and admired so much, anger and fear like a physical presence in her chest. “Well. Explain. Explain how you murdered  _ millions of people _ and then just walked away. Weren’t they your friends? Family? How can you live with something like that? How can you live with yourself?”

The Doctor stands up straight, looking planet-shatteringly angry and heartbreakingly beautiful in the soft orange glow of the TARDIS and despite everything Yaz’s stupid heart flutters a little when their eyes meet. “I told you. Right when we first met. I told you I lost my family. And that I carry them with me, every single day. I could never just walk away and I’ll never be able to live with what I did. And Gallifrey isn’t gone, technically, I was able to go back and save them, but having to make that kind of a choice –” the Doctor takes a step forward, their breaths mingling, shaking with rage. “How dare you judge me when you’ve never had to make that call.”

“You had no right to keep that from us,” Yaz spits out. “You made me think you’d lost your family in some tragic accident, and that’s why they were gone. I actually felt sorry for you. What about all the dead daleks, all the suffering your people caused? How do I know you’re not the bad guys?”

The Doctor looks as if Yaz just hit her across the face. “Ask anyone in this galaxy or the next. Ask how they’ve suffered, because of the daleks. I did the only thing I could. You have no idea.” She grabs Yaz’s shoulders, fingers bruising the soft tissue between skin and bone. “And I’m glad, because that means I’ve managed to protect you. I wanted you to see the beauty of this universe, all the wonderful and exciting things it has to offer. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“I don’t want just the beautiful and wonderful parts,” Yaz whispers, their faces much, much too close now. “I want the truth, or nothing at all. And that wasn’t your decision to make.” She wrenches herself free of the Doctor’s grasp and almost runs to the door, which glides open as soon as she tugs at the lock. She can’t quite stop herself from glancing back at the Doctor, standing still right where she left her, barely breathing.  _ If you make a move now I’ll come back _ , Yaz thinks desperately,  _ please, say something _ . The Doctor opens her mouth, lets out a deep sigh and turns away.

Yaz slams the door closed and if there are tears in her eyes, she’s convinced it’s purely because she’s angry. Plus, there’s lots of air pollution in New New New New New New New New New York so it could just be an allergic reaction to that. Now all she has to do is to find Ryan and Graham and they’ll be home in no time.

Safe, in Sheffield, with her family. Because that’s what she wants.

Isn’t it?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it took me so long to finish this, I hope you love the last chapter! Thank you so much to anyone who's commented or left kudos, it means the world to me :) x

Yaz pulls out her phone only to discover that it’s run out of battery, the glass screen cool to touch and unresponsive despite her increasingly aggressive attempts to poke it back to life. Frustrated, she glances around on the busy street. Where did Ryan and Graham say they were going again? Some kind of zoo? Easy. She reaches out to stop the friendliest-looking person walking past her.

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you. I’m looking for the zoo?”

The green-skinned alien person gives her a bored look. “Which one? There’s 37 zoos within city limits.”

“Oh,” Yaz grimaces. She’d missed that little detail when she was going through her guidebook. “The... Most popular one, then?” 

“They’re all terrible.” And with that, the alien drifts off, disappearing into the thick crowd. Yaz sighs. So much for that plan. The incredibly retro-looking payphones scattered along the street are out of the question because even if she had money  – which she doesn’t – she can’t remember the boys’ numbers. Stupid unreliable technology.

Without her smartphone, Yaz only really knows the way to the library and, not wanting to revisit that particular site ever again, she decides to just walk around the block. The glass buildings gleam in the warm hues of late afternoon sunlight and a coffee-like smell lingers in the air, mixing with the universal basenotes of pollution and people. The city looks beautiful, but for the first time in a long while, Yaz feels lost, scared and alone. If something happened to her now, the Doctor wouldn’t come. In fact, the Doctor might already be in another galaxy in another time, Yaz realises with a sudden jolt of anxiety. She could easily just take off and leave them here to figure out their own ride back home. Panic grips her when she thinks of Ryan and Graham coming back from their trip to the zoo to find Yaz alone in the alleyway, the TARDIS and the Doctor gone forever. The three of them stranded on a strange planet, all because of her. It’s suddenly very difficult to breathe in, and it’s probably not because of pollution. She needs to get back to the TARDIS, right now, but there’s one thing she wants to attempt first.

“Excuse me,” Yaz says again, this time to an old, wrinkled creature meandering along the sidewalk slow enough that she can catch their attention. “Do you… Do you by any chance know anything about  _ daleks _ ?”

The creature shudders and looks at Yaz with what she assumes is disapproval. “‘Course. They destroyed my family’s home planet. The neighbouring planet, too. My grandparents managed to escape and come here, one of the last places that would accept refugees then. This whole neighbourhood is settled by the offspring of the refugees, didn’t you know that?”

Yaz shakes her head. “No. I’m just visiting. I had no idea. Sorry.”

The creature mutters something about young people having no respect and Yaz half-heartedly apologises after them, her thoughts already wandering back towards the blue box hopefully still parked in that alleyway. And a new strand of panic sets in: if the Doctor wasn’t lying about the Daleks truly being entire-universe-threatening bad guys, then she has every right to be angry at Yaz for questioning her. Every right to leave her, to leave the disrespectful, snooping, stupid human behind and go on without her.

But just because she has the right to, doesn’t mean the Doctor would leave them. Yaz has seen her capacity for compassion, fallen a little bit in love with the way the Doctor always strives to help and forgive. Maybe it isn’t too late for Yaz. The least she can do is try to ensure that the Doctor doesn’t take off before Ryan and Graham return.

Yaz walks up the street as briskly as the crowds will let her and breaks into a run, a sob of relief choking her when she reaches the alleyway and sees the TARDIS still standing there, wedged between old cardboard boxes. She slows down and hesitates by the door before knocking softly, almost hoping for no answer. But the door opens, just a fraction, every bit as welcoming and safe and, just,  _ there, _ as ever. Yaz steps in, recalling the first time she did so. On an alien planet, expecting just a wooden box with maybe some kind of control panel squeezed in. Brain aching with the effort to comprehend what she found inside – almost like a church of sorts, vast, echo-y, out of this world. And the Doctor, looking around with the biggest smile on her face and such tenderness in her eyes. In those very first moments inside the TARDIS, Yaz felt the cliff-edge of falling in love, knew that even if they made it to Sheffield and parted ways forever, a part of her heart would always stay here.

The Doctor is there now, sitting cross-legged on the floor and fiddling with something underneath the TARDIS console. She looks up and springs to her feet immediately when she sees Yaz, wiping her hands on her trousers and looking – inexplicably, suddenly – nervous.

“Thought you might have taken off,” Yaz says, voice trembling slightly.

The Doctor shrugs. “I considered it. Only briefly, though. I want you to be safe.”

Yaz walks up the steps to the platform at the centre of the room. Her heart shatters a little more when the Doctor in return takes the tiniest, almost imperceptible step back, dark eyes fixed on Yaz. “I’m sorry I went behind your back. Your past is your business, I should have asked you. I –” Yaz tries to meet the Doctor’s gaze but the Time Lord looks just past her. “I never meant to hurt you. Or myself. But that’s what I did and you don’t have to forgive me. But I’m so incredibly sorry.”

They stand in silence again, stuck. As many times as Yaz has hoped that Ryan and Graham would leave the two of them alone more often, she now wishes they were here. Graham would have the exact right words to say and Ryan would just be Ryan, her friend from school, a bit of normalcy so far away from home.

“I’m sorry, too.” The Doctor sounds hesitant. “Funny, this version of me says sorry a lot but this time, it’s really hard.” Their eyes meet and the Doctor gives Yaz a small smile but somehow she still looks dead serious. “I’m sorry, Yaz. Thing is, I’m old, and still not as wise as I’d like to be. And I wanted to impress you, so I skipped over all the bad things, all the things that I knew would make you see me differently. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Yaz walks up to the Doctor, who flinches ever so slightly when Yaz’s fingertips graze her arm. “It’s not too late to impress me yet,” Yaz says softly. 

The Doctor’s eyes are huge and serious and Yaz is pretty sure they’ve both stopped breathing when the Doctor’s hand comes up to cup Yaz’s face. She smells of motor oil and crackling electricity and vanilla, and Yaz feels really quite dizzy so she lets her eyes slide shut just as the Doctor leans in to kiss her. The kiss is gentle, questioning, but Yaz hasn’t waited all this time for a chaste little peck and when the Doctor starts to pull away, Yaz grabs her suspenders and pulls her back in, the Time Lord gasping against her mouth in surprise. The next thing Yaz knows, she’s knocked back against one of the crystal pillars surrounding the console room and the Doctor’s warm, wiry body is pinning her in place. The Doctor bites her lip and Yaz lets out a whimper she would probably be ashamed of if she wasn’t so entirely occupied by other things. She feels the Doctor’s fingers tangling with her hair, pulling her head to the side as the Doctor’s mouth moves along her jawbone and down her neck, teeth grazing skin.

When they part, flushed and out of breath, the Doctor’s hands linger on Yaz’s shoulders, heavy like she’s trying to hold her in place. Yaz leans her head against the pillar behind her and gazes up at the Doctor, a dumb smile on her face. But the blonde doesn’t return the smile and her voice is an agonised whisper when she speaks.

“I’m afraid, Yaz. I really, really, want to keep you safe and this makes it impossible. I can’t always keep the darkness at bay and when you’re this close… You’re going to get hurt, too. You know how bad it can get.”

Yaz can feel the euphoria draining from her body, and she really just wants to go back to the kissing and the not thinking, but she can also feel the Doctor’s desperate gaze burying into her like she’s looking for answers to something that their extremely competent making out just won’t solve. She pulls the other woman into her, hugging the shivering Time Lord as tight as she can.

“You’re right,” she mumbles into the Doctor’s hair. “I know how bad it can get, now. And I’m ready. I’ve made my choice and I’m staying right here, if you’ll have me.”

She could almost swear she hears a tiny sob as the Doctor slumps against her. They stand like that for a while, Yaz absent-mindedly stroking the Doctor’s back and listening to the alien, yet somehow already familiar beat of two hearts. It reminds her of how incredibly, ridiculously far away from home she is and how much there still is to discover. But perhaps here is a place that could exist alongside Sheffield. The police box, whisking them away to new adventures. Her and the Doctor, saving people and sorting out disputes. Not so different from home.

Eventually, she feels a soft kiss being placed on the top of her head, then her temple, tip of her nose. “Thank you,” the Doctor breathes. “Thank you.” A gentle finger tips Yaz’s face upwards and the Doctor kisses her softly on the lips. “Thank you.”

“I still want you to tell Ryan and Graham,” Yaz says quietly as she smooths down a strand of blonde hair that’s been brushed out of place. “About everything. When you’re ready.”

The Doctor nods. “Anything for you, Yasmin Khan. Always.”


End file.
